


Chinese food and sunlight

by BlazeRiddle



Series: CatLock [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Catlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-11
Updated: 2015-03-11
Packaged: 2018-03-17 10:41:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3526226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlazeRiddle/pseuds/BlazeRiddle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>things are discussed</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chinese food and sunlight

**Author's Note:**

> I'll probably edit the series into one story when I'm finished, but for now, I'll post it as a series 'cause it's easier to find the motivation to write small parts :)

John came padding down the stairs to find the woman still there, standing at the window, staring at the rising sun. The world was just awakening, the paper boy just disappearing around the corner. John yawned and trotted to the kitchen and started the kettle.

"Did you even sleep?" He asked, pulling down three mugs and putting tea bags in two of them. "Tea?"

"Black, please." She sounded distracted, completely focussed on something else. Also, she sounded very tired. John smiled and made the tea, and when he finished preparing the third cup, a bedroom door opened and padded feet came down the hall, into the kitchen, and John looked up to greet the groggy detective and press a cup in his hands.

"Didn't sleep well?" He commented as Sherlock moved to his chair, a small smile on his face, and Sherlock grumbled an answer before slumping in his chair.

"Swan sent the file over." The woman said, vaguely pointing to the coffee table. "It's a lot, we've been after this guy for a while now." She turned back to the window, staring down at the street, doing a good job at looking alien. John brought her the tea. And she offered him a smile, not looking at him. John settled in his chair and looked back and forth between the two.

"Who are you?" He suddenly asked. "I mean, you broke into our house last night, and Sherlock let you stay, but who are you?"

She shrugged, still looking at the sunrise. "At the moment, your client." She turned and looked at the man intently. "What I was before this is both none of your business and too dangerous to discuss." She picked up her tea and took a big gulp, hissing as the scalding liquid went down her throat. "When you're going out today, pick up some granola bars and a pack of chewing gum, please."

John frowned, mildly stunned. "How do you- Why?"

She shrugged with one shoulder. "Chewing helps me think." She said. "As for the shopping..." She quirked a brow. "I've seen your fridge." She suddenly did a full body stretch, linking her hands together above her head, and John heard something _pop_ before she dropped her arms.

"That doesn't sound good." John frowned and she shrugged again.

"Used to it." She turned to Sherlock after picking her tea back up. "Anything useful, detective?"

Sherlock was leafing through the thick file. "Not yet." He grumbled. She produced half a smirk.

"Keep at it, then." She half-ordered. "Can I use your laptop?" Sherlock absentmindedly waved his hand to where his laptop lay and she moved over, positioning herself on the couch with it. John looked at the two and went to get dressed to make his trip to Tesco's.

*

In the evening, Chinese was delivered, along with three slices of rich chocolate cake, by a grey man in a pristine suit and a black Jaguar with blinded windows. With a curt nod, the man was gone, and John walked back upstairs, baffled.

"Food's here?" He said, hesitantly. Sherlock frowned at him and the bag of Chinese, from a place on the other side of town, looking as if he wanted to throw it out of the window. _She_ didn't look up from Sherlock's laptop.

"If you throw the cake out of the window, Holmes, I _will_ kill you." She mumbled. "If it's delivered by an old man in a Jaguar, it's safe." She frowned, then deftly tossed the laptop over to Sherlock, who caught it in his lap with a bit of trouble and an odd look. She winched slightly. "Sorry, forgot you're not Swan." She stood and took a carton of Chinese and a set of chopsticks, opening a carton and fishing out a piece of chicken before popping it in her mouth. "Sebastian Moran." She surmised, thinking out loud around the meat in her mouth. "Ex-army, dishonourable discharge. Known as the Tiger. An actual tiger, as well. Hybrid, hyper-strong. No other traits known." She frowned for a moment. "He's going to strike again." She concluded. "Very, very soon." She swallowed the chicken and raised her brows at Sherlock. "You have a pattern." Not a question. John found her incredibly rude, but in a way that made him like her. Sherlock glanced up at her before looking back at what she'd pulled up on the laptop.

"Three days." He said, "Tops."

"Okay." She checked the time and pulled out her phone and dialled a number she had memorised. The phone was answered almost immediately and a smile played around her lips.

"No spring rolls, Swan?" She asked in way of greeting. "I'm disappointed." John was standing close enough to hear a laugh and a faint rumble of a man talking. She smiled again. "I'm just going to be here a while longer, solve the case. We should have it done within three days." She paused for a moment, "Anything on him, yet?" She listened to his rumble for a while. "All right. West End. Got it." After another moment of silence, "Say hi to him for me." And she disconnected.

"Tight leash." Sherlock noted. She rolled her eyes.

"Caretaker." She corrected. The word made Sherlock pause, just a microsecond, just short enough for the doctor not to notice, before he continued reading. She continued. "My team has located him to be in West End. If we make a plan tonight, we can apprehend him tomorrow." She frowned. "For obvious reasons, I'd like it to happen at night." She turned to John. "Any preferences, Doctor?"

"Twilight." Sherlock suggested. "The darkness is not an advantage if he's a tiger."

"Not exactly a disadvantage, either." She reasoned. "I'm good at night, so are you, probably, and after he hit a target that is two windows and an alley away, in the middle of the night, I have confidence in Dr Watson, too."

John frowned. "How- You- Never mind." He let his head hang as he pretended to give up. In the span of one day, he'd learned that this woman knew as much about him as Mycroft. She smirked.

"We can do it at night." She concluded. "Just a quick job - move in, book him, move out. Swan and some others as backup." Her fingers drummed against the carton box she was holding as her mind came up with a plan. "We'll have to sit a stake-out to wait for the best timing, but when we go in, we'll have to do it quickly and quietly. We take him down, we move him out, you deliver him to the police. Agreed?"

Sherlock nodded slowly. "And after, we forget all about you."

"If possible." She smirked, then moved and wrote a bunch of numbers down. "If you don't, however..." She handed the paper to John, "... If you ever need assistance with anything, the Community is yours to call." She offered a warm smile. "We have brilliant resources available all over the world, though you shouldn't ask them to do your plumbing. I tried that once, and I ended up having a swimming pool where I didn't want one." She looked outside to see how much daylight there was left. "I need to run some errands, but I will be back. Save some cake for me."

John rolled his eyes and pocketed the number. "I will lock every door and window." He said, knowing it probably wouldn't stop her. She shrugged as she slipped into her coat.

"I won't care." She smirked broadly. "Goodnight, doctor. Mister Holmes." And with that, she was gone.


End file.
